


The history of The Hunter

by Kimmylia



Category: One Piece
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Collar, Comfort, Crazy, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Kill or be killed, Law, Mental, Multiple Personalities, One Piece - Freeform, Roronoa Zoro - Freeform, Torture, Trafalgar D. Water Law - Freeform, Zoro - Freeform, caged, inflicting, insane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmylia/pseuds/Kimmylia
Summary: Nine year old Roronoa Zoro lived on the street and was just kidnapped. Well... can you call it kidnapping if no one will miss you...?After knocking me out they dragged me with them to a hidden place, waiting to be trained to torture and kill people. In the beginning I resisted and was against it, I did not wanted to hurt others. However, they gave me no choice…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have been writting a RPG with my friend. In this RPG Roronoa Zoro, my character has two personalities. Himself of course, and the other one called The Hunter. SO, I decided to write a prequel what had happened with Zoro before the RPG. How came The Hunter in the picture. How fuck up had it been before everything happened. Hope you people enjoy it!

Back then, I was just a kid of nine who had just lost his one and only home and lived on the streets. The days were hard and lonely, the nights even worse and mostly cold. However, this was not the first time I had lived on the streets, I knew what to expect and knew it would not get any better than this.

I spend my days wandering through the alleys and looking for food, knowing good food was hard to find. Until the day, some wrong people noticed me, saw my potential and wanted me to go along. Of course I did not wanted to go with them, they felt all wrong and I did not trust any person that walked by. However, after knocking me out they dragged me with them to a hidden place, waiting to be trained to torture and kill people. In the beginning I resisted and was against it, I did not wanted to hurt others. I had been hurt enough with the death of my family and I refused to do that to someone else. However, they gave me no choice…

Day after day, they placed me in a place known as ‘the pit’. I was never alone in the pit, how I wished that was the case. There was always someone with me, kids that were already gone mad and were as crazy as a door, if it was not worse. I was afraid of them… they charged after me through the area while laughing and screaming. The first time I froze up. Wrong move, I got strangled and was almost killed, luckily the kid fainted. Ever since that day, I ran as soon as they entered the pit. There was only one rule under all this madness. Kill or be killed. Out of defense, I started to attack back. I never killed, only made them faint. The small kids were easy; choke them until they pass out. The BIGGER ones were harder. I had to give them so much pain that they would pass out. By breaking their bones or knocking them out. I never killed them; I was punished for that fact. Not only that, much later they told me and SHOWED me what happened to the people that I did not kill. THEY killed them after torturing them for hours. Making them beg to BE killed, and then tortured them more. Until the spark in their eyes were gone without a trace. A lifeless doll. 

All my effort was in vain. It was me killing them or they would. Since that moment I decided to kill them, I would do it quick without torturing.

I still hated to torture and kill the kids that came in the pit with me, I tried everything to escape. I once stole a spoon from a guard and tried to cut through the cement of the bricks behind my bed. I WAS SO CLOSE! I could even smell the air from the outside world. It was so delicious! I could not wait to see the blue sky and the ocean I had always loved. However, I got caught and was throw into another cell much bellower the place I was held. I hated it there even more, it smelled like dead bodies that had rotten there for years. I spend my days by crawled under the bed and screaming until I could only spit blood out. Still they threw me in the pit every day and if they were in the mood tortured me, which was a lot. 

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After weeks of trying to hold on I finally broke down, had gone mad. It was when I had to face a big man for the first time, an adult. ‘No more kids for you’ they said. At that day, I realized with my broken mind I had to do something, before it really would go wrong and I would get killed. Normally I wait until the enemy attacks and then use it against them and kill them. Now I did not wait. Squatting down I jumped at him as if he was a prey and tried to inflict as many wound on him as possible. He bleed out after a while and died. The guards had laughed and cheered. Told me I had grown up, finally I could begin to be useful for them. I could only stare at them in shock, what had I been doing then all along? Entertain them? And now I had to be useful for then?! One of the guards even came in the pit to take me back to my cell. I had screamed and jumped at him with black eyes, biting his throat out. Other guards had come and shocked me while they tried to safe the guard. It was in vain. A sickening laugh erupted from me as I watched him bleed out. I was powerful, they could not play with me, as they liked to. From that day on I had to wear a collar around my throat, if they picked me from my cell they used a stick to guide me so I could not get them. 

Months later, I had become a perfect torture and killer in their eyes. They even released the collar around my throat. However, I knew I had to behave, the smallest little sanity I had left was telling me that. The sick thing was, the guards even began to stimulate me in using creative murder weapons. They began to give me weird objects to survive against stronger and faster opponents in the pit. I once had a pencil and pierced it right through my attacker’s heart. The problem was that he had suffered a lot, because I did not had the heart and strength to do it… So the pencil did not fully go through his heart. After a deep breath and hearing him scream in pain I pulled the pencil out again and did it again with more force, the moment it went through it, he stopped screaming. Finally, some peace, of course I had felt a little sorry for the poor fellow, but it was he or I!

Another time they gave me nothing and all I had around me was sand. Scooping some up I poured it in the poor man’s mouth and closed his nose and mouth off, making him swallow it. He would die because of the lack of air, or die with the feeling of being buried alive because of the amount of sand I made him eat. He died with a dry throat, his stomach full of sand and eyes that were looking terrified up at me.

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It had almost been a year ever since I came here. I had lost hope of ever getting out. I did not care anymore. Then came the day one of the guards said I was ready. I did not understand it back then. Ready, for what? With a leash around my throat, they guided me in a van and we drove away, to some kind of big building where they pushed me in a room. Looking around I noticed there was a women bound down on the bed. I stared at the women who stared terrified back at me. What was the meaning of this I asked myself while cocking my head. My guards told me I had to hurt her, torture her but NOT kill her. Torture her with my creative mind like back in the pit. I stared numb at the women. It was she or I; I had learned the hard way I would make sure it would be them and NOT me. Looking at the tray next to me, I notices some sharp tools I could use for the torturing. A sick grin appeared on my face as I grabbed the most rusted knife there was. Of course, the women started to scream around her gag while I came closer towards her, while playing with the knife in my hand. Slipping it between my fingers, every time barely not cutting myself. Bringing the knife on her skin I slowly put more and more pressure on it. Because of the rust on the knife, the skin did not give in easily, just the way I had hoped for. Of course, the women started to scream hysterical. Then I broke through the skin. I wide my eyes as I saw blood beginning to stream out of the wound and peeled the skin off of her. After a few hours of ‘fun’. The guards put the leash on me again to take me ‘home’. The women looked broken down, her tears had dried out hours ago as she was covered in blood. 

More and more I was being brought to that room in the big building. I even began to enjoy these little trips; at least I had something to do and was not alone. 

One of my victims was a kid, I think around my age. I picked up the name Trafalar or Trafalgar, not that I cared much about his name. His was skinny and his skin was pale. Those golden eyes followed me around in the room. He tried to act cocky and smug, but I could see he was frightened like a cornered animal. I gave his body a quick look. He had scars, so many scars. Grabbing his dark hair, I smirked at him. That pale skin. I hated it. I will make it go away. Delicious screams filled the room as I added my own scars to him. And at the end, not a part of his body was pale. It had the colors of the rainbow. Most red. However, some purple, blue and black was mixed along in it. The guards had to drag me away from my whimpering piece of art.

One day I had to torture a big man who was bound with ropes. When the guards turned their eyes away from us the man broke free and punched them unconscious. I SAW MY CHANCE TO ESCAPE! But I was unlucky; the man grabbed my head and smashed it against the wall, and again, AND AGAIN! A ringing could be hear in my ears and I my vision was blurry. Something was definitely wrong in my head. I began to scream at the pain in my head as he slammed it once again against the wall. After a few more slams, I gathered all my strength, swung my legs up over his shoulders, and wrapped them around his throat. Squeezing tightly. My pupils were beginning to get as dark as the night. A voice in my head was telling me to squeeze tighter, to kill him, watching the life drain out of his eyes and turn his body into a ragdoll. The grip on my head began to loosen and after a few seconds he crashed down to the floor, with me wrapped around his throat, my head made another crash, this time on the ground and my grip loosened as well as darkness surrounded me.

When I woke up, I was alone again in my cell, the collar back around my throat. Whimpering I tugged at it. NOT AGAIN! I had worked so hard to get it off with following their commands, why?! Later I heard it was payment because I let the man escape. So, I did not manage to kill him. He was lucky. However… that was not my biggest problem. Even if I was alone… I was not… Ever since that day there was always that voice in my head… telling me it wanted blood, pain and suffer. How he loves to see the spark of people die and their hope melt away. He wanted to feast on organs and drink blood. He called himself The Hunter. Many times, he took over; even if I tried, it was useless to fight against him. So after a while I had accepted to work together with him to torture people. That he would take over at that moment to do it, even almost killing them. Luckily, the guards usually knocked me out before it could happen. 

Day in and day out this routine repeated itself, it was becoming a habit. I did not bother to take over anymore, as The Hunter was becoming too powerful. And as poor as it sounds, I was beginning to lose my will to go on. I just let him take over and waited… waited until I would wake up in my cell again with bruises and had control again. The days were beginning to get shorter for me, as Hunter took over more and longer. Not only did I had this problem, I suddenly had problems with finding my way around, disorientated. I got lost a lot; it was so strange… I was suspecting this came from the time my head was being smashed into the wall a couple of times. I could barely find the way towards the shower that I was allowed once a month. Even then, the guards had to tug me along because I always took a wrong turn; because they thought I was joking and trying to escape, they even beat me up a lot for this. Life was getting darker and darker for me and around me.

I forget to count the days, well forgot… I just did not bother and did not care anymore. I had been here for what… Well at least 3 years, maybe 5. Not sure. I was more muscular now because of the strength I had built up with torturing others. But also because when I was alone with the voice in my head, I trained myself, doing pushups in my cell to pass the time and to try to ignore the voice till I could not resist anymore or it was time for the voice to take my body over again. My green hair had become quiet long, it was always bothering me with getting in my face, so one day while torturing someone again I grabbed a butterfly sword and chopped it off in one clean cut. At least I could see again. Of course, the guards were against it because now there was evidence laying around. Well that is their problem. Whoever would find me when I was with them? I would never be found. Never be saved. How hard I would try. After some whippings on my back for that, which I took gladly, I was throw in my cell again cuffed and with a collar on to teach me not to leave evidence around. The chains were a little short so I could barely move in them. But, well, soon enough it won’t bother me, when The Hunter would take over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change for the better...?

One day I woke up with a lot of commotion from upstairs. Not knowing what was going on, but also not really caring for it I rolled over on my other side. Again, I was chained and had a collar on. The best thing at these times was wait until they would take it off again. “Here is another one!” Could be heard from behind my bars. Slightly tilting my head, I could see some people trying to open the cage. Slowly sitting up I watched them, wondering what they were doing. I wide my eyes when the cage opened up and people came in, trying to open up the cuffs and the collar. As soon as they were off, I jumped the first and best person before me. RULE NUMBER ONE! TRUST NO ONE! My pupils went pitch black. ‘Let me help you little lost Zoro. Together we will kill them all and be set free. Let me break you free from your holds, your cuffs, your cages. And ATTACK!’ Letting out a deep rumbling roar I began to attack that person, wrapping my lost cuffs around his neck and pulled hard. Not only suffocating him but also breaking the bones in his neck. Grinning feral I looked up at another person, a woman who screamed and took a step back. Terrified of my action. As my grin widened I pulled harder, hearing the sound of some more bones breaking. Letting go that person dropped like a ragdoll to the ground before and I jumped at the woman, my feet kicking her in her stomach so she fell down hard on the cold, hard ground. Gripping her hair, I tilted her head up and crashed it down on the ground. She screamed again. ‘Zorooo.’ The voice whimpered. ‘Do that again, that noise is so wonderful!’ So I crashed her head on the ground again. ‘Blood. GIVE IT TO ME!’ I bite hard down on her neck. I numbly did as I was told so I could get out of here. I closed myself off from the world to leave the screams out she was producing. Beginning to taste some blood, I sucked at it, feeling it ooze down my throat and I closed my eyes in bliss. Pain in my neck brought me back and I let her neck go, reaching a hand up to catch something cold being stuck in my neck. Pulling it out I looked at it, a …dart…? The voice in my head began to scream and demand for me to do as he said. However, the words in my own head were making no sense right now as I began to sway and crashed down on my knees. With a blurred vision, I could see people getting closer again. Widing my eyes slightly I could only stare as they came closer. My eyes rolled back and I crashed to the ground, falling inside the black.

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When I came to it again, I was chained again. But… frowning I looked down. It were no cuffs… It was some kind of cloth or jacket I was stuck in. I looked around; I was in a white room. The only question that came to me right then was, am I dead? But then what? Was this heaven? Moreover, why could I not move? Probably sitting here waiting to be dragged to hell, because I do not belong in heaven. I looked up at the white ceiling and closed my eyes. Sighing from the inside and dozed off while I waited. Waited for heaven or hell.

When I later opened my eyes again, I was greeted with the same room, but there was now a chair with a person in it. A young woman was busy observing me and writing stuff down. So I started to observe her. Blond hair, slightly make-up, red top, black skirt with only some underwear under it, Red high boots. Not bad. Earrings, little diamonds too that are probably too expensive for her, perfume by the smell of it expensive, for who are you trying to smell and look so nice? Her top was not entirely buttoned up so she was trying to show of her boobs. All the evidence was clear she was trying to get someone’s attention with all that shit. I looked at the necklace, strong enough to choke her, the heels nice and pointy so another way to kill her, the pen she was writing with could be stabbed in her heart same with the lovely hairpin she was wearing, her glassed I could smash and make her eat. The woman looked worried at me and started to talk. I did not really pay attention and was still observing her. She snapped her fingers and started again. I looked at her red lips, moving around. “-you are? I blinked stupidly at her. She smiled softly at me. “I asked, do you know who you are?” I just kept staring while she kept on repeating the question repeatedly, even in different languages. After a while, she gave up and began to write again as she shook her head. Huffing I closed my eyes, ignoring her. 

After a while, she left again. As soon as she closed the door behind her Hunter came out again to terrorize my mind. Telling me, he would like to have her limbs ripped off. That he wanted to taste those lips. And no… not in that way… He wants to rip them off and eat it. I ignored him as his voice grew louder and louder. Eventually falling asleep as his laugh echoed in my head. Even if he was in my head… I felt so lonely. 

The woman came back day after day. One day she came with a chocolate bar. By the looks of it, she wanted to use Positive Reinforces to make me behave the way she wanted. If I did something good, I would get a piece of chocolate. Rule number one woman… I. Hate. Sweets… As a child, I had lived on the streets. When you are that hungry, you will look in garbage cans. And if there is not enough to fill you up… steal. The problem in stores are you cannot hide cheese or sausages that easy… A bag of candy you just rip open and put it in all the pockets and places you have. After doing this almost every day… I had hated sweet stuff… The woman found out it was a bad move when I almost bite her finger off and spit the chocolate out again. She had looked shocked at me and soon left again.

Another time she came with another man. While he yelled at me and treated me like dirt. As if I was the biggest scum in the world, she stayed calm. She kept using her soothing voice and stayed nice. Yawning I ignored them. What the hell were they trying…? Good cop bad cop? They frowned at each other at my behavior, of course not expecting that. Soon left again.

This went on for a couple of weeks. It was fun for me to see how she tried repeatedly, every day with different methods. Until that, one day came… She came in looking like a mess. She just sat down. That is it. She did not try anymore, she had given up I guess. She had no make-up on, no nice clothes, it was a plain jeans and some simple shirt. Even her hair was simple. Not nice up in a tail or curled. She huffed and took a book out of her bag, starting to read that. “…” Closing my eyes, I listened to her movements. Her fingers that brushed over the page and then finally turned to the next one, how she breathed and how her feet from now and then shuffled over the floor. After a while, her breathing went slower and a little later, the book fell, hitting the floor. She had fallen asleep… the idiot… I COULD kill her. But why should I. Hunter had turned quiet for the last couple of days and I did not mind the company. Opening my eyes, I watched her. Until she woke up again and looked surprised at me. Probably because I had not done anything to her. While she kept her eyes on me, she quickly picked up her book and left again.

One day she came in while talking on some big device what people call a phone. It was an old, big device with an antenna that was sticking out of it. “I don’t think he is capable to talk sir.” I rolled my eyes. “Yes sir. I understand sir but-… I tried that already. Alright sir.” Huffing she sat down in the chair where she would take place on every day and stared of. I cocked my head as if I was asking her what was wrong. But if she understood that, she ignored it. Then out of nowhere, she asked the question she always did. “Do you know your name…?” Of course I did not answer and the silence stretched on until she stood up, looking utterly defeated. 

Smirking I looked at her as she turned around and made her way to the door. It was then that I finally opened my mouth. “Very bold you are.” I hoarsely said and coughed. My throat hurts after not having used it for such a long time. And to be honest, I was surprised how low it sounded; my own voice has changed without me even knowing. “Keeping insisting for my name, while you never told me your own name.” I continued and coughed some more. I could imagine her face. Eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted and eyebrows raised up. My smirk returned once more as she turned around, exactly showing that face. “Being unable to talk and not wanting to talk are two different things. Maybe you having been asking the wrong questions. Used the wrong tactics.” She sat down in the chair again. “Sir! What is your name?!” Closing my eyes, I replied with a simple. “Bold attitude.” Blinking she looked at me. “You… are right. I never did tell you my name.” She smiled. ”My name is Samantha. But you may call me Sam. Would you like to know more?” I shrugged. To be honest.. I don’t really care about all the information. “Uhm… I am 27 years old, no kids or anything. No pets, no life.” She chuckled at her own joke. “So anything else you would like to know?” Opening my eye I smirked at her. “Your blood type.” Blinking she watched me, then nervously laughed. “Would you mind telling me now your name?” Opening my other eye I mumbled a “Wrong question.” She frowned. “How do people call you? What do you call yourself? What can I call you? How do you want to be called? …do you even have a name?” Shuffling some I went to sit straighter. “If I have a name it does not matter. People call me what they want. If I listen is another thing. Dog, pet, slave, tool. You choose.” She gave me a weird look at the nicknames and gave me a new nickname. “Then I will just call you… Bob!” I gave her a not amused look. “I was just making a joke! …what about… Greeny?” I rolled my eyes but let it be. She is the worse at giving nicknames… At least Greeny is better than Bob…. “Greeny it is!”

The days that followed after that she tried to learn me and my personality better, finding every damn excuse to call me Greeny. She came to the conclusion I hated sweet things. When she brought me some food or drinks that were too sweet I would just not touch them. She then also came to the conclusion that that was the reason why I spit out the chocolate that day. And I nodded in agreement, because it was partly true. The other part was because I just felt like biting off her finger and taste it. So after that conclusion she made sure I would get not too sweet drinks and food. I guess… that’s nice of her.

I was beginning to like Sam. After our rusty start weeks ago I really started to like her. She was honest, maybe a little stupid and foolish for trusting others that easily. She was also a little funny and not pushy. She now knew if she was asking me the wrong questions I would just ignore them. I knew she was just trying to help.

Some more weeks later I began to slowly open up to her about my past. I told her I was about 9 years old when I came on the streets. I left the part out that it was my second time… Because I had been living on the streets before. Continuing my story I told her I was 10 years old when they took me from the streets. In a matter kidnaped me. I even told her about the Pit. The law about kill or be killed. How we were caged and chained. Everything in rough details. Everything except Hunter. That was something I would take to my grave. He had left me alone for now, so maybe he was gone. Besides, I did not know what they would do when they would find out about that. When Sam told other people about it they labeled me under ‘being unstable’ and having ‘schizophrenia’. They put me on medication with weird names I did not know of. Not only that, I had to take lots of therapy sessions as well. 

Not only did I not wanted to swallow the medication, I did not swallow the ‘unstable’ and ‘schizophrenia’ deceases either. I really did not wanted to take the medication… They made me groggy. They had to force them through my throat. Sam was not really a fan of that, but the command came from higher up. She just tried to comfort me with words like ‘They will make you feel better’ and ‘Before you know it you wont need them anymore’ and I really wanted to believe her. So I let them push it down my throat with a little fight. I wanted to get better. And I think I am, because hunter had not come back ever since I woke up in this place.

Sam kept visiting me every day. But she was not that nice as before… Instead of our slow and kind conversations like before she tried to force me to tell everything from my past. Even if I was groggy from the medication, I refused! There were some things I just was not planning to tell. This went on for a couple of weeks. And instead of telling her stuff I slowly began to close in on myself again, like before. I even tried to hid the medications, or later on vomit them out again. Anything to get them not in my system.

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Then came the day Hunter came back. Asking me if I liked it to be chained and caged like a wild animal, just like back them. Waiting day after day. I told him I was not. But to be honest, I knew that was a lie. I knew the situation might not be the same, but I was still locked and caged. I was still not free. I tried it my way, a nonviolent way. And look where it brought me… Why had I not escaped. To be honest, I did not know why I have not tried that yet. Maybe, I was silently hoping they could fix me. Make me better. But I guess some thing could not be fixed, were not mend to be fixed.

Hunter, it was his fault. He took over. I just asked if he could help me escape. Because I knew those was not my place to heal. This place could not help me. Not with their stupid medication and stupid promises. Their stupid therapy sessions and their stupid conversations. As soon as the door was being opened he just killed that person. In the back of my head I realized it was Sam… The woman with no children… no pets… The only one in this place that had given me a name. The only one that had tried her best with me. Im sorry Sam… No… Samantha. All I could do was watch him sneak and kill others along the way. 

After he fought our way outside in the night, I took control again and just ran for it. I kept on running till I reached a bridge. Diving head first in the water I went to hide under bridge. I pulled myself on a small piece of rail under it and just waited, shivering from the cold and adrenaline. I looked at the blood that was on my body, mixed with the water and slowly sliding their way down. The sound of sirens came over me a lot of time, people who were searching for me and calling out my name. But they all went away after some time. I peeked out a little when the sun was rising again, amazed by it. I haven’t seen the sight of it in years. It was beautiful. The colors, the sounds. But how badly I wanted to go out there, I just waited. Till the sun disappeared again and the moon showed its true colors again. The darkness was better to travel in. 

Going out of my hiding spot I climbed on the bridge again. I then took a random way, not caring where I would end. I went back on the streets, back to where it all started. Time went by and with my luck they did not find me again. No matter how many times I got lost. Most of the time I did not know where I was, or where to go in a matter of fact. All I knew was not to trust anyone. And that the best thing was to blend under the people. Hide myself. 

And that was exactly what I did. Blending in and hiding myself. I had grown into a rough young adult. The best way to hide was in plain sight. It sounds weird, but that’s what they would never suspect. After doing lots of dirty jobs on the street I had saved enough money to hire myself a cheap apartment and decided to go to high school. I was a bold, not caring and selfish person. Not wanting to interact. 

But… I was lucky to have met the two most persistent persons at school. And thanks to them I slowly opened up again. They changed my life. Mostly for the better. The three of us took care and looked out for each other. I have never met people with such colorful and wonderful personalities as them. And I would do anything to keep them safe. Even let Hunter back in.


End file.
